Like a tightrope walker,
he teeters
across the back of the park bench.
He flails his arms for balance
but falls anyway,
laughing.
She laughs, too, as he dusts himself off,
but he knows she is impressed.
Dropping to the grass
next to where she sits,
he pushes her back
and kisses her.

It's warm in the park,
but she's comfortable
in her flower print dress.
The dress
reminds him of spring.
It makes him think of the wind,
the way it ripples around her body.

He kisses her
and rolls onto his back,
laughing again.

He feels he loves her.
He thinks about this
and notices that she is laughing.
This makes him smile,
to know she is happy.

He finds her enticing
and thinks perhaps it is her hair.
It's rich and brown
and hangs to just above her shoulder.
Something about it reminds him
of a horse's mane.
He decides not to mention this,
not wanting to compare her to a horse.

Instead,
he reaches out
and takes a handful of it
and tugs
and says,
"I love your hair."
He runs his fingers through it
for a little while
then plays with the nape of her neck.

She likes this and smiles
and scoots closer to him.
She rolls onto her side
and pats his stomach
like it was a small drum.

He doesn't know if he likes thinking
that his stomach is like a small drum,
but he likes it when she pats it
so he doesn't say anything.

He just laughs.